


return to neverland

by aflightoffancy



Category: Peter Pan & Related Fandoms, Peter Pan - J. M. Barrie
Genre: (but mostly just Wendy/Hook), F/M, not compliant with any epilogues or sequels, older!Wendy/Hook, playing with the mythology of Peter Pan, with elements of dark!Pan, young!Wendy/Peter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-01-11 23:35:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1179275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aflightoffancy/pseuds/aflightoffancy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been ten years since Wendy Darling left Neverland. Ten years spent hoping for a glimpse of her Peter. Ten years spent growing up. And when Neverland pulls her back in, she finds the island is a very different place when you're all grown up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ten years

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been sitting on my computer for what feels like forever, so I figured it was time to dust it off, polish it up, and finally make something of it. 
> 
> This first chapter is fairly mild, I'll update ratings and warnings as they apply, but at no point do I intend to have any dub-con or non-con scenes. (Also while a gratuitously explicit sex scene isn't completely beyond the realms of possibility, it's not very likely, and it's definitely not coming any time soon). 
> 
> Uh, it's been a while since I wrote fic, so critique is definitely encouraged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently I'm the sort of idiot who accidentally deletes whole chapters when attempting to add second ones. 
> 
> I'm so so sorry. Learn from my mistakes, don't update drunk.

ten years.

i.

It’s an anniversary. Their anniversary. Wendy knows anniversaries are normally to celebrate time spent together, but she has to make do commemorating time spent apart. She lights a candle and sits by the window. Watching. Waiting. She wonders if he’s thinking of her. If he’s missing her like she’s missing him.  
John and Michael stay with her a while. She tells stories, like she used to, before she got moved into her own room. Then Michael digs out the old wooden swords and for a while they lose themselves in the battle. They talk of mermaids and fairies, of The Lost Boys and Tiger Lily, and Hook and his pirates.  
Peter is always present but never mentioned, only acknowledged with furtive glances towards the window, as if even the simple act of saying his name would jinx that tiny slither of a chance that the boy in question might show up.  
But soon Michael begins to feel weary, and John sighs and mentions how tired he’ll be for his test tomorrow and they both climb into bed.  
Wendy stays.  
 It’s amazing how much she’s missed listening to them sleep.; there is something eerie about going to sleep in a room all by yourself after twelve years of sharing and she’s never really gotten used to it. She stays till dawn, when she sneaks back to her own room.

ii.

She hates needlework. With a fiery passion. But there is no dissuading Aunt Millicent. It is, apparently, a necessary skill for young girls, though Wendy has yet to see why. On that day, every time she catches sight of her thimble she’s transported a million miles away.  
She wonders if he still has her Kiss.  
And thinks how terribly much she’d like to give him a Thimble.

iii.

She got into a fight with John. Over something silly and unimportant, she can’t even remember what. But it ended with yelling and shouting and slammed doors and now he won’t let her into the nursery. Though nursery is probably the wrong word for it now, what with Michael into double digits next spring.  
She paces outside their door for a while, before deciding to head back to her own room. Surely she can keep a vigil by that window just as easily.

iv.

Michael sleeps; John sits up with her. She clutches Wuthering Heights, he has a book about plants.  
“I don’t understand, you’re so much better at this than me. Why am I stuck doing Biology while you’re not?”  
“Because I’m a girl, stupid. And girls can’t do science.”  
“Aside from the fact you were a thousand times better at it than I am. I can’t remember any of this rubbish.”  
She laughs and he grimaces.  
“Well, I’m hardly going to go out of my way to convince them of that. Ricky told me they had to cut open a live mouse the other day! I’d much rather be stuck learning about literature.”  
“Happy to gut a pirate, but when it comes down to vermin you get all softhearted.”  
“Hmm, yes, but the pirate probably deserved it. And I’m happy to kill a mouse, there’s just something off about poking around in its innards once the job is done.”  
“But it’s for science! And the betterment of mankind!”  
She rolls her eyes at his mock enthusiasm.  
“It’s to impress Mr. Petrie and look at what’s been seen a million times before. There is nothing to be gained by cutting up the poor mouse, specially not by cutting up a dozen in the same room, in the same circumstances.”  
“Well, we have to start somewhere. We might have the next doctor in the room, and he can’t wait till he gets his first patient to start cutting into things.”  
“Is that what you want to be? A doctor?”  
“God, no. Never. I’ll probably follow Pa into banking or something, to be perfectly honest. You’ve always been better at the caring thing. Would you ever consider being a nurse?”  
She wrinkles her nose in disgust.  
“Not a chance. I shall run away to Paris and become a writer.”  
John snorts.  
“And leave your poor husband to pine for you from London?”  
“Oh, I shall never marry. And if I did, I doubt they’d pine.”  
“You’ve got them pining already. Sam Greening was saying his brother bought you the flowers the other day, and has all sorts of poetry dedicated to you. But kept chickening out because he couldn’t hope to compete with Jonathan Manors.”  
“Manors and Greening can both stay pining. Manors is arrogant, and just plain dull. And Greening is afraid of his own shadow. Neither of them has ever had an original thought and both of them seem to mistake me for an exotic bird that they can put in a cage.”  
“Well you are a Wendy Bird, right?”  
He smirks. Wendy gives him a playful shove and he topples sideways.  
“Yes, but they’ve no desire to see me fly. And Wendy Birds don’t like to be caged.”  
“They do sound like right bastards.”  
“Oh, they don’t mean to. And I’m meant to be flattered. Still. When you start trying a win girls over, promise me you won’t forget she’s a person?”  
“After growing up with you?" She raises an eyebrow, and he sighs, “If you must hear it, I promise.”

v.

Five years. Five years and she’s seen neither hide no hair of that damn boy.  
She refuses to hold a vigil for him.  
She snaps at anyone who talks to her.  
John makes peace for her at home and she wonders when he became her ally.  
She kind of wishes he’d been at school with her today.  
Then maybe she wouldn’t have made Hannah cry.    
And Judith.  
And that God awful Marcus Greening who has got to learn to take a hint.  
She slams the door of bedroom shut and pulls the curtains across her window.  
If he wants to visit her tonight he better be willing to beg for her to let him in.

vi.

Sometimes she forgets he's not growing up like she is. That if she rambled to him about journalism courses and going off to university to read literature, he'd be bored out of his brains. That he really wouldn't care that Cynthia is already engaged. This year, when she pictures him at her window, he's every bit a man, and a much better kisser than Hugh Danvers. He sits up with her and helps her sort through piles of applications. He reads through her essays, and drinks champagne with her when they're done. She doesn't let herself think about how of he heard her telling that story he'd never bother hanging around her bedroom window again.

vii.

“What are you doing, Wendy?” Michael asks, frowning as she lets herself into his room.   
“Waiting for Peter”  
“Yes, but why? We all know he isn’t going to come.”   
She stops short.   
“Why would you say that? He might.”   
“Because he’s not real. I’m thirteen years old, you don’t have to pretend anymore.”  
“But... Michael, you don’t remember going to Neverland? Meeting Peter and the Lost Boys and Tiger Lily? Getting captured by Hook? Tinkerbell?”  
“They were great stories, but they were just stories. No need to lose sleep over them.”  
“I’m still waiting.”  
He shrugged and turned back to his book. She stared at him for a moment more.  
 _He really doesn’t remember. Will John forget too, one day? Will I forget?_

viii.

Her mother and father are visiting her grandmother in the countryside. John and Michael have been stuck with Aunt Millicent. As a lady of twenty, she is allowed to have the house to herself.   
Of course, she isn’t entirely alone, but no one knows that.   
His name is Jeremy Fielding. He is bold and outspoken. He's travelled and seen the world and exudes confidence. They've gone out for coffee a couple of times over the last few weeks, and he tonight he took her to the theatre. She knows it's not proper to invite him into her home without a chaperone, but when has she cared for what's considered proper?   
He smiles, all arrogance, when she leads him inside. She'd roll her eyes, but when he accepts her invitation it's all she can do to keep that same expression off her own face. It wouldn't do to gloat, she's learnt boys like to feel like they're in charge of the seduction. No need to bruise his ego by letting him know she planned for this all along.   
She collects a couple of glasses and steals a bottle of scotch from her father's liquor cabinet, earning an appreciative nod from Fielding, and barely hesitates before guiding him upstairs.   
"If you're going to stay for a drink, I must show you the view of the city from the old nursery," she gushes.   
He blinks at the word nursery, but it's upstairs, it's intimate, he really doesn't need much persuading.   
They spend all of a minute at the window, and then he's kissing her, and her dress is on the floor, and she's fumbling with his buttons, and it's a mess of skin and fabric and movement and touch. And his lips press into the hollow at the base of her neck, his hands seem dangerously low around her waist, she can feel his cock pressing up against her. He leaves a trail of kisses along her neck, and then whispers in her ear "My God Wendy, you're beautiful."  
She runs a finger along his jaw. She wants to say, you too, but boys like Jeremy don't always appreciate being called beautiful and the last thing she wants to do is spoil the moment, so she simply nods.   
He is gentle and slow. But it still takes her a moment to get comfortable, and another moment before she'd describe it as pleasurable, and then just as she's getting the hang of it, it's over, and he's pulling away, a big grin plastered on his face.   
After he's gone, she lies on the nursery floor and wonders if Peter Pan ever has these sort of troubles. And then she remembers he's still a boy, and she's all grown up. With no thanks to Jeremy Fielding.

ix.

She races into the house, her smile wide.   
"Mother! Father! You must come down hear at once!"   
She clutches the paper tight in her hands.   
"Good heavens, Wendy, is everything alright?" Her mother asks, as she races down the stairs.   
"I'm in print! In a serious paper, with a serious article! Is Michael home, or John? Where is John?"   
"I have no doubt they'll be here soon, but that doesn't mean we have to wait! We have a respected journalist among us, and I for one could not be prouder," her father replies, practically beaming.   
"Oh, and I have to tell Chris, he'll be so thrilled. I don't know how I would've gotten it published without him!"   
"Don't give the boy too much credit, Wendy, I've read what you write."

Later, she sneaks up to the nursery and tapes the article to the window. "I've had a massive day and I still haven't forgotten our anniversary. What's it take to get you to say hello to an old friend, huh, Peter?"

x.

There’s only ever been one boy for her. But he’s beyond her reach and she has to make do with what this world chooses to give her. And that happens to be Christopher Halford.   
And tomorrow he’s set to become her husband.   
She likes him well enough. He is, she supposes, attractive enough. He’s charming. And educated. And nice. He has a decent job. He never has a problem with challenging him and speaking her mind. The number of men who’d smiled ever so condescendingly at her before cutting her off whenever she dared to air an original thought...   
But Christopher is different. And he does truly make her happy. Any other day, she could spend hours telling you about how wonderful he is, how much she enjoys debating with him. How helpful he'd been in getting herself established as a journalist. She loves him. But she's not sure she wants him. She's not sure she wants this.   
He just can't make her forget how once upon a time she'd flown across the night sky and fought against pirates. How she'd dreamed she'd travel this world and instead found herself ever more trapped in London.   
That was why she’s here. Pacing the old nursery.   
Soon this’ll no longer be her home. She’ll only come back to visit. She won’t get to spend sleepless nights sitting by the window. Or to sneak away to this room whenever she needs space to think. Whenever she needs place to believe, a place that has actually borne witness to the impossible. A place that Peter knows, where she last saw his face.   
And now if Peter ever does return she’ll be gone.   
“Peter Pan, this is your very last chance. If you don’t show up this instant you will never get to see Wendy Darling again.” She glares at the window, and wonders if it's possible to intimidate the glass pane into revealing Peter to her.   
And she waits. And waits. And sighs.   
“You know Wendy Darling might miss you, but you can bet Wendy Halford won’t care in the slightest for little boys who don’t bother to drop by, and can’t even bring themselves to offer congratulations when their friends get married. Mrs. Halford certainly doesn’t need a friend like that. She’ll have a husband. And society dinners. She’ll be a mother to her own children, not some orphans. And guess what, Peter, you won’t get to be the father this time!”  
She felt like a child, petulant and stubborn. What would Aunt Millicent say if she could see her now? Making demands of inanimate objects and people who hadn’t been within hearing distance in over a decade. After all that effort spent to make her grow up.   
Then again, maybe Millicent would have been happier if she’d spent more time pouting and throwing tantrums and making demands she knew would come to nothing. That was expected of a girl. Better to make a fuss so men could roll their eyes and cluck condescendingly than to think, to challenge and debate.   
“I just miss you, Peter. And there’s always been a chance that maybe I’ll see you again. But I really am growing up now. And you’re not. And tomorrow... tomorrow I really will be leaving my childhood behind. And that means leaving you behind too. But you know what, Wendy Darling was never one to wait around for what she wanted. And Wendy Halford is removing you from the exemptions list. This is goodbye, Peter. And I'm really sorry you're not around to hear it.”   
She lets out a final sigh, and the last of her strength disappears with it. She is deflated, and lonely and lost. Not yet Mrs. Halford. But Miss Darling feels beyond her reach as well. Her legs collapse beneath her, as she sits heavily on the ground, her back coming to rest on the wall. And, after ten years, she finally cries for the friend she knows she'll never see again.

And then, ever so softly, there comes a knock on the window.


	2. three things you should know about peter pan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, bad news first. after all your waiting, today's chapter is fairly short.
> 
> but the good news is, the next chapter will be up either tomorrow or the day after. it's another short one, almost a companion to this chapter.  
> but in even better news, the chapter after that should be up within a week, with a whole lot more words and forward progression. 
> 
> i do apologise for the wait, but on the plus side i have managed to work out what story we're telling here, and i'm excited about it, so you can be excited about it too!

three things you should know about peter pan. 

 

i.

Peter Pan doesn’t have to grow up. And he won’t. (He _won’t_ ). But he can. And he knows how. Hook told him how it’s done. Not that he trusts Hook. Bloody pirate was probably just trying to throw him. But there’s a small part of him that seems to know, seems to sense the truth in Hook’s words. 

Other people might have to grow up, but he doesn’t. He’d rather die. 

 

(i.ii.  
But there’s something about knowing he can. He won’t do it. But sometimes he toys with it. Sometimes he comes awfully close.

Sometimes he thinks he might as well, because no matter how young his body is he doesn’t always feel like a child. Sometimes he catches himself wondering how long you can live, how much you can see, how much blood you can have on your hands, before you have to stop calling yourself a boy. So, why not? Why not grow up and get it over with?

But those sort of wonderings are for adults. And he’s not one of those. Not yet. Not ever?)

 

(i.iii.  
Guilt is also for grown ups. Another reason to avoid becoming one.)

 

ii.

All children have to grow up, except one. Even his friends. Even those who stay with him on Neverland. 

At first it was sad when they got too old, but there were always more, and he was never lonely. He always had a Curly, a Slightly, a Nibs. He never wanted for Tootles. He always had someone to play with. The Boys... The Lost Boys were his family, but the boys themselves left only the faintest of impressions. He never thought he could miss them. 

Until Wendy Darling stole them all away, all at once. 

She, she was never faint. She, he cannot shake. Like a brand, pressed deep into his skin. 

Sometimes he wishes he’d left with them. Sometimes he wishes she’d never come here at all. 

 

(ii.ii.  
Mostly he wishes she’d fade away, like all the others. So he can have the memories, the stories, and not have to deal with the painful ache of something akin to sorrow that attached itself to her name, her face.)

 

(ii.iii.  
He never wishes he’d never met her. He just wishes she’d never stolen the rest of them away. He wishes he’d never had to find out what it meant to be alone.)

 

(ii.iv.  
Little boys, even immortal little boys, are not meant to be left alone. And as much as he loved her, his sister, friend, partner, it is loneliness he feels when he thinks of her, and keeps her burnt into his mind.)

 

(ii.v.   
She left him twice. He should have killed the first time so she couldn’t take everyone with her the next.)

 

ii.

All children grow up except one. It doesn’t excite him as much as it use to. Sometimes he fears there will be no children left to join him. He was never bothered by a pirate with a sword in hand, but the thought of being left alone fills him with dread.

 

iii.

Peter Pan never went to visit Wendy Darling. 

 


	3. three things you should know about captain hook

three things you should know about captain hook

 

i.

He wasn’t always a pirate, but he finds it hard to remember everything he was before. Harder still, when the memories press themselves upon him, to reconcile all that he was with all that he is. Not that he’s sad for the change. Piracy suits him. He’s always been good at simply taking what he wanted, and now no one expects him to apologise for it.

 

(i.ii.  
The thing he misses most is the look of surprise on their faces when they realised the dimple cheeked boy with the smile to melt your hearts wasn't there to play nice. They were always so offended.)

 

(ii.iii.  
He was happier then. At least more ignorant. But he wouldn't go back for all the gold in the world.)

 

ii.

Years may not leave their mark, but he is not supposed to live forever. He does not get to choose when death will come for him, or how, but he has a better idea than most. And when death comes claim his soul, he’ll simply cut him two.

 

(ii.ii.  
There might be a natural order to things, but nothing about his life could be described as natural. In a place where anything is possible, why shouldn't he get to conquer death?)

 

(ii.iii.  
In all his dreams, death wears the face of a 12 year old boy. He doesn’t know if anything else can kill him. It’s been a long time since anything else has tried.)

 

(ii.iv.  
He fears, sometimes, that killing the boy will end his life just as surely as a knife plunged into his own chest. Destroy all the magic that keeps suspended here year after year after year. But better to take the chance than accept the certainty.)

 

(ii.v.  
Hell, sometimes he thinks he'd prefer that. And he can drag the rest of the island to hell too. Break the cycle. Spit in the face of whoever dreamt up this accursed island.)

 

iii.

a good storyteller is hard to find.

 

 


End file.
